


Goodwill

by cherryflesh



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Aziraphale Loves Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale/Crowley - Freeform, Bottom Aziraphale (Good Omens), Crowley Tempts Aziraphale (Good Omens), F/M, Flustered Aziraphale (Good Omens), M/M, Oral Sex, Possessive Crowley, Soft Aziraphale (Good Omens), Top Crowley (Good Omens), female!Aziraphale/Crowley
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-18
Updated: 2019-06-18
Packaged: 2020-05-14 08:09:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,823
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19269205
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cherryflesh/pseuds/cherryflesh
Summary: The year is 1906 and Aziraphale turns himself into a woman, only briefly, to go out and join the carolers on a cold winter evening. Crowley is in a seducing mood, but how will he react when he finds out that the woman he seduced is actually his old friend?





	Goodwill

**Author's Note:**

> Good Omens is my favorite book and I have been shipping Crowley/Aziraphale since I was a teenager. This is a fic I wrote back in 2011 for a Good Omens Christmas Exchange on Livejournal, so it's an old relic, but I thought I'd share it since the lovely book has become a lovely teve series. And you never know, somebody out there might enjoy it. 
> 
> I hope you do. <3

_London 1906_  
  


_The Angel_  
  
Should he? Aziraphale shifted and glanced out from behind the curtain at the white cover of snow in the garden and the laughing people walking the street beyond with songbooks in their arms. He bit his lip. Well, why not? No harm would come of it, surely? For years he had considered trying it, but even angels could balk at a new idea and Aziraphale had always been a bit careful.

Taking a deep breath and stepping away from the window, he Made An Effort. Half an hour of desperate miracling for appropriate clothes later, _she_ left the house via the back door, catching sight of herself in the reflection of a window. She blinked and stopped, unused to seeing herself as a woman. She was slightly shorter but still a bit plump, which apparently in woman form translated into healthy hips and a bosom which could only be described as ample. She blinked again and hurried around the house and into the streets, carrying a very old and beautifully painted music book full of Christmas carols.

Sometimes she really missed the singing, and no more so than during the Christmas holiday when _people_ , darling people with hearts filled with hope and love gathered outside the homes of their friends and neighbors and sang. Not in the perfect harmony of the celestial choirs, but from their _hearts_. She wanted to be part of it, just this once – perhaps because Christmas, the blessed Holiday of the Son, had always turned out lonely for her.

* * *

 

_The Demon_  
  
While the angel wondered if he was doing Right, the demon sauntering down the street wondered if he was doing Wrong. This time of year he usually spent shitfaced on a pub, woman or man – and on happy occasions all three. There was actually no better time to corrupt mankind if you knew where to look. The unhappiness, the pent up frustration… and there was a boom in suicides, which were easy pickings really – Crowley usually left that to other demons. Besides, an honest demon could barely get any work done with all the goodwill and love floating around like toxic clouds. But Crowley had begun to think differently. The changes people had been making these last couple of decades were inspiring – and he liked to think of himself as a modern demon. Corruption on a grand scale, that was the ticket.

He tapped his cane with his gloved fingers, trying to remember where Aziraphale lived… he looked forward to some company, and Aziraphale was easy to tease and annoy. 

Well, of course he _liked_ him. It was impossible not to. After six millenia Crowley had exactly one friend - _of sorts_ \- and he was willing to bet his life - _well, somebody’s life_ \- that it was the same for Aziraphale. The Agreement was the best thing they had ever done. Although the last few hundred years Crowley had gradually begun to want to change the rules…

Ah, that had to be the house. Quite beautiful in a small and humble kind of way. Crowley grimaced when he saw that he was going to have to pass another group of singing carolers on the way over – half of their sickening goodwill positively radiated from one of them in particular. A curvy blonde hugging her songbook and singing with a joyous enthusiasm that just begged to be quelled. Crowley hesitated, then walked over to stand next to her. Well, maybe just one soul before bothering the angel…

”His Mother Mary kneeling down, Unto the…” Crowley cleared his throat, fighting a wave of nausea. He made a discreet gesture with his hand and bent down to whisper in the woman’s ear, wrestling his eyes away from her cleavage before she looked up. ”You look awfully cold my dear, if I may be so bold,” he whispered and wrapped the newly created coat around her shoulders. She stopped singing and looked up in surprise. The blue eyes widened and he gave her the most charming smile in his arsenal.

”I… oh my… I… t-thank you, sir.” She opened and shut her mouth and Crowley was delighted to see a blush already stampeding over her cheeks. He studied her and found another thing to bring up. ”It… it really isn’t necessary…”

”Nonsense!” he interrupted her. ”Such a sweet girl as you shouldn’t be out here in the freezing cold – look at your poor feet.” She looked at said feet, but had barely time to glance at them before he gently tilted her chin up. ”Let me treat you to some mulled wine – a warm Christmas drink from Scandinavia, where they know how to deal with the frost of winter.” She stared at him and for a moment he wondered if the woman could see right through him, then she smiled and the dimples in her round cheeks came alive.

”That sounds wonderful, sir!” she told him and when he offered his arm she took it. He kept his smug smile on the inside. This probably wouldn’t take long. And it didn’t. Before long they sat in front of an open fire in a nearby tavern. Crowley had taken special care to talk to the owners, suggesting that they should make themselves and prospective guests scarce for the next, say, two hours. They had taken the hint and exited through the back door and the golden-haired woman had only expressed a mild surprise at the lack of people.

”So,” Crowley said as he poured her a generous amount of mulled wine. ”What makes a pretty girl like you stand in the freezing cold?” The woman sipped the hot wine and smiled, seemingly delighted at the taste.

”Why, to sing of course!” she replied, her voice soft and kind. Crowley tilted his head to the side, listening as something in the back of his mind prodded him insistingly. ”To bring joy to others.” She sounded perfectly sincere and Crowley shuddered at the thought that those Godawful - pardon his French - carolers could possibly bring joy to anyone. ”Oh dear, this is quite strong isn’t it,” she added and looked down into her small glass with the beautiful golden decorations.

”That is… ah… a worthy cause, to be sure.” Crowley hesitated as he tried to pinpoint why the woman currently licking the sticky liquid off her fingertip – wait, what was he thinking again? Oh yes – seemed so familiar. To cover his confusion he created a small bowl of raisins and peeled almonds behind his back, and presented it to her with another charming smile. ”Try a few of thessse…” he said, scooping up a couple of teaspoons of the content at dropped it in her glass.

”I had this imported from Sweden. It’s called Glögg,” he added, watching in amusement as she dug around in her glass with the teaspoon for the soaked raisins and almonds, popping one of each into her mouth with a happy grin.

”Oh! This is simply wonderful! Imagine!” She sounded so excited and kept looking from the glass to him and back again, eyes shining. Again Crowley stared and wondered if he indeed knew her – she seemed so _familiar…_ and he couldn’t help thinking that she would look adorable in glasses. He frowned and made a complex gesture behind his back, conjuring a mistletoe above her head. He had to get on with this particular corruption if he wanted to spend Christmas Eve with Aziraphale. He slid closer to her and she looked up in mild curiosity - which also was familiar, to an infuriating degree.

”Kyss mig,” he whispered and added, glancing up at the mistletoe. ”That’s Swedish for ’kiss me’, which is rather appropriate wouldn’t you agree?” Her eyes widened as she noticed the mistletoe and to his delight she blushed. He waited, relishing in her shyness. She put down the glass, wrung her hands together and picked up the songbook as if touching it was somehow comforting. Then, holding the book to her chest as if it was a shield, she leaned forward, smiled nervously and pressed her lips to his sharp cheekbone in a clumsy kiss – quite possibly the least sensual kiss in the course of human history. And yet the simple contact of lips against skin made him hard in seconds. He cleared his throat and gently removed the book from her unresisting hands. ”My turn,” he said, leaning over her. As he claimed her mouth in a kiss a good deal more forceful than hers, she made a few frantic muffled sounds. A few moments later even the kindest jury would say that she was holding unto more than pushing away, and when the tip of her tongue met his he knew he would have her. Still kissing her he let his fingernail ghost over fabric covering her nipples and when she shivered he held her more tightly, one arm around her waist so that he had one hand free to play with her. He let the hand wander further down, sliding his fingers into the wetness between her thighs. She made a sounds into his mouth and he smiled, biting her lips lightly. ”Yes?” he whispered. ”Do you enjoy that?” She hid her face against his shoulder, mumbling something as she squirmed against his hand. He grinned like a reptile. ”Hm?”

”This is unbearable!” Her breathing was rapid and she sounded oddly helpless. ”I don’t know what – I can’t-”

”Why don’t you just lie down…” He eased her down on her back, keeping her legs spread for him. ”…and trussst me.” She covered her face in her hands but didn’t resist as he lifted her skirts over her hips. He moved the fabric aside, leaned down and tasted her. It was intoxicating. Maddening. And he couldn’t stop.

” _Crowley..!_ ” The breathless cry stirred something in him, something that felt important… but not as important as the curvy beauty writhing beneath him, arching her back. He continued licking after her spasms had abaded, caressing the soft thighs. Minutes past and suddenly she began to struggle, pushing down the skirts so quickly he could either drown in fabric or retreat. He chose the latter and leaned back against the side of a couch, watching her panic with a lazy grin.

”I – I have to go – it was a pleasure meeting y- oh! I – I mean I enjoyed – um – I – ” she stuttered as she gathered her book and arranged her clothes, all without looking at him. All in all it was very amusing, he reflected.

”You’re absolutely right, it _was_ a pleasure,” he purred, taking special delight in the way her face turned crimson. The next moment she had fled out the door, and he stretched and watched the door. He _had_ planned on turning her over and… well, you can’t have everything. But some things were worth having more than once and he could always look her up.

And then the dry voice at the back of his head managed to get a word in edgewise; he never introduced himself to her. His eyes widened.

_Oh bugger._

* * *

 

 

_The Angel_

Aziraphale paced the room, wringing his hands together. What _had_ he done? He had broken all kinds of rules, not the least of which he and Crowley had made. Well, not that they had included this particular scenario in the Arrangement, but this definitely broke the rules! They weren’t supposed to _lie_ to each other! This deception was a – a – He couldn’t think of something bad enough and sank down into a chair. It was all his fault. Why hadn’t he told Crowley right away? The demon would have gotten a kick out of it, no doubt there would have been teasing, but all in all it would have been preferable to... well, the thing that…

The thing was, Aziraphale thought, that angels were virgins. They weren’t _supposed_ to want it in the first place. And Aziraphale had never really understood what all the fuss was about. It seemed messy at best. Now demons on the other hand, demons were designed to enjoy all the pleasures of the flesh. It was sort of important in their toolbox of corruption. And not that he was any judge, but it seemed to him that Crowley was particularly good at it.

Aziraphale blushed at the memory and cleaned his glasses with shaking hands. The sensations had been overwhelming and he had been completely unprepared for the intensity. And the longing that seemed to linger… surely that had to be a part of it. He was grateful that Crowley didn’t know it had been him – no horrible breach of the rules, no teasing.

He knew he loved Crowley. He had known that for thousands of years, and Crowley was quite possible the only one Aziraphale loved. Well, he loved everyone, it was part of his design, but love on a more personal level… all that was reserved for one arrogant bastard. With a _really_ long tongue. His thoughts scattered when he heard a thumping on the door and cleared his throat.

”It’s open!” he called out, grimaced and walked into another room to stand by the window. With any luck at all he could avoid eye contact, and the snow-covered garden looked almost serene in the moonlight…

He felt the presence behind him, like a heat against his back.

”Hello, angel.” Hot breath against his neck. Aziraphale shivered. 

”H-hello, Crowley.” His hand grasped the drapery for support. ”What brings you here?”

”Wellll…” the demon drawled and suddenly a pair of arms encircled his waist. ”Can’t have you alone on Christmas, can I?” Aziraphale tensed up and swatted at the hands resting on his stomach.

”Crowley,” he said firmly. ”Now see here, we agreed on no manhandling.” A dark chuckle sent shivers down his spine.

”Ah…” the demon whispered. ”But we agreed on so many things. No _deception_ …” Aziraphale’s stomach dropped.

”I’m sorry,” he said, wondering if he had lost a friend. ”I didn’t mean to – I didn’t plan to-”

”I’m not,” Crowley replied, and Aziraphale could hear the snake grin. ”And I’m sure you didn’t. Either way, it was a jolly good trick. You really had me, you know.” Aziraphale exhaled sharply in relief, then yelped when he felt a hand reach down to grab his right buttock. ”But just so you know – and I’m telling you this for your own benefit, wouldn’t be fair if I didn’t, you understand – you’re _mine_ now. Call it a new Arrangement.” Aziraphale was about to voice a protest when Crowley dragged his long tongue over his neck.

”O-oh…” He leaned back and Crowley took full advantage, feeling him up beneath the suit. ”Wait… we can’t, our superiors…” he breathed and Crowley sighed.

”Well, it’s obvious what’s going on, isn’t it? You, virtuous angel that you are, are quite obviously trying to turn a poor fallen angel back on the right path.” He stopped to place little bites along his neck. ”Whereas I am trying to corrupt you.” He squeezed the front of Aziraphale’s trousers and the angel responded with a breathless moan. ”Can’t you tell?” Aziraphale could feel the thin lips against his skin, stretched into a smug smile.

”That sounds reasonable,” Aziraphale mumbles and half-turned, looking up at him. ”Will you stay?” His heart sank when he saw the answer in eyes that were always a tiny bit too golden with pupils a tiny bit too elongated.

”I just got an urgent mission in Vienna,” he said with a grimace. ”I’ll be back in time for Christmas morning if I hurry, though. I promise. Hey,” he said when Aziraphale glanced away. ”I’m a demon of my word, see? I’ll just get this thing over with and I’ll be right back. You’ll barely notice that I was gone.”

He left. Aziraphale leaned against the window frame, staring out into the night. The desire turned into longing that burned brightly within his chest and he smiled, feeling his wings unfold behind him. _I love you_.

”Bloody hell.” Crowley sounded incredulous and Aziraphale turned slowly with a smile that was almost embarrassed. ”That’s all for me, is it?” said Crowley sheepishly, then grinned. ”I pleaded my case so to speak,” he continued, crossing the room until he was standing in front of the angel, then continued walking while he was speaking until Aziraphale was backed up against the wall. ”See, the corruption of a being as pure as an angel is a lot more important than that sodding mission… and it can take a really long time…” he said, staring into Aziraphale’s eyes with a heat that was scorching.

”It could take years,” Aziraphale whispered as Crowley grabbed his wrists and pinned them against the wall on either side of him.

”Centuriesss,” the demon hissed, rubbing his thigh against the angel’s erection.

”I – I wouldn’t be surprised if – oh my – if it took a thousand years…” Aziraphale stuttered breathlessly. Crowley smiled.

”Hell, it could take _forever._ ”

 

**Author's Note:**

> I'm really more for writing male/male smut, so this was an anomaly, but it was what the sweet giftee wished for and who am I to disappoint on a Christmas Gift? Anyway, I hope you liked it.
> 
> If you did, and would like me to write more Crowley/Aziraphale, please comment and let me know what you think, yes? Toodles! <3


End file.
